


Buried

by Felurian1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 18:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20511662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felurian1/pseuds/Felurian1
Summary: FILL:Dean is either physically or emotionally hurt, and has gotten dirty so Cas gently, painstakingly cleans him up and helps him come out of it.https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/152479.html?thread=46897055#t46897055





	Buried

At some point Sammy stops breathing and that’s when Dean decides to lose his mind. They’ve been buried in the dirt outside some godforsaken farm for what feels like hours, bound tight by ropes that Dean can’t unpick, god knows he’s tried, and all the while Sam underneath him getting fainter and fainter. His breathing getting shallower and shallower, even with Dean using his body to shield him, to create an air pocket over Sammy’s face so he can breathe, so they have a chance. It isn’t enough. Sam wasn’t conscious when they hit the dirt and he hasn’t come back, even though he promised, they promised each other they’d always come back, and perhaps Dean’s thoughts are rambling a little now but he doesn’t care. If Sam can stop breathing then Dean can go away too and hope they find each other wherever is next. Dean uses the last of his energy to force his arms over Sam’s head, cradling him, creating more air pockets even though its pointless, even though the air isn’t going anywhere but into Dean’s lungs anyway. And then he stops trying. Dean lets his head fall and his fear and horror rise up to meet him like old friends, like all the memories of every time he’s failed Sammy, and he knows he’s dying but this time? This time maybe that feels good.

\-----------------------------------------------

It’s dark when Cas finds them, dragging the man who did this by his neck across the earth until he spits out “Here” and Cas can see the freshly filled in pit in front of him. Its been three minutes since his connection to Dean failed him. And from the unholy glee in the man’s eyes, its been much longer since his humans were put into the pit. The man dies. Cas begins lifting the dirt, every drop of his Grace focussed on this task, and by some miracle they aren’t too deep, he can uncover them with his hands, desperately scrabbling to pull them both free. Hoping he isn’t too late.

Dean comes first, his body tangled around Sam’s in the most protective embrace Castiel has ever seen. It would be astonishing if he didn’t know these men like he does, if he hadn’t seen them push themselves into death and beyond for each other, time and again. But not this time. Cas won’t allow it. He checks Dean with a touch of his hand, the hunter is still there, still breathing, and Cas sends a prayer of thanks to anyone who might be listening that he doesn’t have to walk into hell to fetch Dean Winchester out again. Though he would, in an instant he would. Then he turns to Sam, and it’s now that Cas begins to pray in earnest, summoning the angelic power he has left, because Sam is turning cold. He’s not gone though, not truly, and so Cas places both palms on his body, kneeling beside him in the dirt and the rain and he pulls, and from somewhere deep inside Sam Winchester there is an answer. Cas repeats the prayer, the power of his Grace flowing into Sam’s body and pulling him back into himself until he takes a sudden, shuddering breath in, his body spasming as he inhales clear air for the first time, his eyes flying open for a moment before he collapses back into unconsciousness. 

Cas pauses, breathing hard from the exertion and the panic he was keeping at bay while he searched for the brothers. He can feel their hurts, the broken ribs Sam’s sustained, the fractured jaw on Dean, the dozens of smaller cuts and bruises all over their shattered bodies. But they’re both alive, and it’s enough. With a deep shiver of his wings, Cas takes them home. 

\-----------------------------------

Its almost half an hour before Cas can turn his attention back to Dean. His bond with the hunter is restored, and he can feel the almost physical pull to go and care for him, but Sam’s injuries are worse, his brush with death closer than even Cas had imagined. So by the time Cas has performed what healing he can and got the younger Winchester safely into bed, Dean is starting to wake up. And worse, he’s starting to pray. Over and over again in Cas’s head, “Just stop, no more, no Sammy, just stop, no more…”, the tone so flat and dull that Cas feels his heart drop, though he knows that isn’t possible anatomically speaking. 

“Hello Dean? Dean, do you hear me?”, Cas says, leaning over the hunter’s still body. He knows Dean is awake, that he’s breathing fine, that he isn’t even that hurt by Winchester standards, but something is horribly wrong. Dean isn’t moving, his arms curled over his chest as though to defend himself, and his eyes are wide and staring straight through Castiel. His mouth is moving, silently mumbling the words of the prayer, “No more, no Sammy, just stop”, and Cas has to restrain himself from the urge to shake him - a practice he’s always frowned on in humans, but which he now understands with painful clarity is born of panic and love. “Sam is asleep next door. I know you can hear me, Dean. You have to listen. Sam is asleep in his bed, and he will awake in the morning.”, Cas tries, and is rewarded with a flicker of emotion crossing Dean’s face. Very briefly, just for a moment, but it’s enough to let Cas know that he can understand the words he’s hearing.

Cas sits back for a moment and thinks. His knowledge of humans may be rusty, but centuries of observing them has taught him some things. “Dean, I believe you are suffering from shock. You need to be warm. I am going to run a bath, and then I will return. I will be gone for approximately-”, Cas pauses, concentrating, “-for approximately four minutes and twelve seconds. Please remain here.” Cas waits a moment to see if Dean will acknowledge this, but there’s no change to the hunter or his prayers, and so Cas repeats his instructions again and then goes to run the bath. He’s unfamiliar with the bathroom, but he knows the concept and in a short time the bath is almost full. Cas tests the temperature on his vessel, it seems hot but not dangerously so, and so he turns to fetch Dean, his eye catching briefly on a bottle resting against the side of the bath. Cas picks it up. ‘STRAWBERRY BUBBLE BATH’ says the label in huge letters, and it smells like Sam, so after a brief hesitation Cas upends the entire bottle into the water. Perhaps the scent will comfort Dean, and if not it will help to clear away the soil and grime.

It takes a little coaxing to get Dean to the bathroom, Cas trying to persuade him verbally at first, and then tugging at his wrists when that doesn’t work. The hunter flinches at that and Cas is mortified to realise he was tugging where Dean’s hands were bound, but he persists, pulling at Dean’s elbows until the man follows him, still mute but at least able to move. When they reach the bathroom, the STRAWBERRY scent is almost overpowering to Cas’s finely tuned senses, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he stops praying. “Thank you Dean, I did not need to hear that prayer any more. Because you are here, and Sam is asleep in his bed. Now, please undress. It is required for a bath”. Castiel knows that if Dean was his usual self, he’d crack a joke just now, something about not being a baby or Cas acting like a mother hen, though Castiel has explained several times that mother hens are in fact less affectionate than you might imagine, but today he doesn’t. He just stands there, swaying slightly, until Cas takes matters into his own hands. 

Gently Cas tugs the filthy, damp, muddy clothes from Dean’s body. The ruined flannel shirt, the blood stained t-shirt, the soaked and grimy jeans are all peeled away carefully, Cas guiding Dean every step of the way. Then the socks, Cas kneeling at Deans feet to roll them carefully off his ankles and his toes, feeling the chill in his skin with every touch. And finally the boxers, eased off and onto the floor by warm angelic hands. Cas slips off his own shoes and takes Dean’s hands in his own, moving him over to stand by the tub. He’s just about to step into the water himself when Dean makes a noise, a little sound of protest that has Cas frozen instantly. “Did I do something wrong with the bath?”, Cas says, brow furrowing as he watches Dean’s face intently. Dean’s mouth works briefly, silently, Cas can’t quite make out the words, but then Dean’s hand moves an inch up and tugs on his sleeve. And then again, more insistent this time. Castiel gets it suddenly, and he almost laughs when he realises. Carefully, he slips off the trench coat, the jacket and the tie, and places them on the floor by the bath. Dean offers him a half-smile, and Cas takes that as a sign, reaching out for the hunter’s hands again and stepping them both into the bath. Vaguely he knows that he should have removed the trousers and shirt, for a truly human experience, but this seems more comfortable and Dean didn’t seem to mind now.

It takes just a moment to get them immersed in the warm water, Cas leaning back against the end of the bath with Dean’s back to his chest, the human settled between Cas’s legs with his weight supported by the angel. Cas thinks it’s like an embrace, and the thought threatens to distract him from the task at hand, so he puts it away for consideration later on. For now, he has a cold and dirty human to tend to. “Can you clean the dirt away yourself Dean, or would you like me to do it for you?”, Cas questions, letting the washcloth float close to Dean’s hand for him to take. Dean hesitates for a second, then makes a little swipe under the water which sends the cloth back towards Castiel, who hums quietly as he plucks it from the strawberry-smelling bath. Dean bends his back forward, exposing the skin that Cas knows so well, every scar and freckle familiar to the angel who put him back together all those years ago. Making sure to soak the cloth in warm soapy water, Cas begins to clean his human, rubbing in neat, careful circles over every muscle and bone of Dean’s back. Slowly, inch by inch, he feels the hunter start to relax, and relief courses through Cas’s mind that he can bring Dean back like this, that this was the right thing to do.

When he’s finished with Dean’s back, Cas takes each arm in turn, rubbing carefully over his shoulders, his arms, down to each hand which he takes his time cleaning. Dean’s eyes are closed now, but occasional deep sighs are coming from him, and Cas makes sure to repeat what he’s doing every time that happens. At some point he starts to hum, one of the old tunes he’s heard Dean playing in his room, barely knowing what he’s doing, and so it’s pure delight when Dean mumbles “...workin on the night moves” and joins him, just a little, just on the bits Cas struggles with. He makes sure to struggle extra when Dean is joining in. 

Cas finishes washing his hands, and the dirt has seeped off most of the rest of him, but Dean’s hair is still full of soil and mess. Cas leans back, trying to relax Dean backwards into the water to clean his hair, but even the movement makes the human tense again so Cas stops immediately and picks up a soap dish from the side of the bath. He takes a moment to focus his Grace, the bath water reheating just a fraction, and then he carefully fills the dish with water. “This will only take a few moments Dean, and then you will be finished”, Cas mumbles, his voice deeper than he expected really. But Dean nods, and so Cas pours the water over his head, washing away the worst of the dirt like that before he reaches up and rubs the soap through his humans hair, the sensations new and strangely precious on his hands. Dean’s hair is short and soft, full of tiny knots and hidden length, though Cas finds pleasure in running his fingers over the shortest part at the back of the hunter’s head. Dean seems to like it too, so Cas takes his time, alternating gentle flowing brushes with heavier rubbing until Dean is limp and relaxed in his arms. 

Cas doesn’t know why he whispers, but when he says “All done” he knows he doesn’t want it to be true, like saying it softly will take the sting away. Dean stirs, stretching one way and the other as he seems to come back to himself. The water sloshes as he turns, twisting until he is kneeling between Cas’s legs, green eyes taking in the soaked trousers, then the shirt, and then Dean meets Cas’s gaze for the first time since the farmhouse. The moment seems to last forever, and then Dean leans in, his breath hot and steady on Cas’s mouth, and some instinct makes Cas raise a hand to stroke along Dean’s jaw. Dean shudders, then he dips his head and very carefully kisses the angel. “Thank you”, he says, the words only heard by Castiel, and the angel returns the kiss, hope and love fluttering in his heart.


End file.
